Ghosts
by Lonely Scarecrow
Summary: Of ghosts there are two kinds: Those that were once alive, and have moved on to a place either better or worse, and those that haunt the mind. They live in our past. They make sure that we don't forget. Alistair/Edward R&R!


**Hi :D wow. It's been a while. Ha, so much for 'updating more' during the summer... I told you, I'm not meant to make promises :P **

**How long did it take me to write this? Months. That's right. Months_. _Now the entire world of Fanfiction knows that I suck at YAOI -.- joy. **

**So, this little monster MIGHT be a story made of three parts: past, present, and future... and I started with the present because I'm clearly unorganized U_U or it's probably because it's meant to end here... I'll make a decision later based on the reactions I get.**

**This chapter takes place when all the vampires are gathered in Breaking Dawn, and if it had been me co-writing, it would've explained Alistair's reason for leaving, thus making him look more...well, dramatic XD and heroic, of course. Sort of. **

**Speaking of, the reason I haven't published this earlier was because of Alistair's character. I kept messing him up! I don't know if I got it right this time, but I think I'm close. Please let me know if I didn't! I think I messed up Carlisle as well, but I managed to redeem him ^_^ sort of. **

**And this is not BD-friendly. Thought I'd let you know in advance. **

**Also, beware of ghost-referencing! There shall loads of it. Let me know when it becomes too unbearable :\  
**

**And...I cannot think of anything else to say XD enjoy! **

* * *

Edward always knew, somewhere deep in his forever-frozen heart, that his past ghosts would eventually come back and haunt him.

"Why _him_?" He had asked, rebelling against his creator's decisions for the first time in decades and being anything but civil about it. "Of all your acquaintances, of all the vampires owing you their lives and of all the vampires that would gladly cross oceans for you, why do we have to have him witnessing for Renesme, my _daughter_?"

Esme bit her lower lip from the doorway, an old habit human habit of hers, and silently begged Edward to drop the subject and tend to his fretting wife and oblivious daughter. Her son nearly blew up on Carlisle in front of everyone when he had announced that Emmet and Rosalie will look in the Amazons and that he and Esme will start in England. The only thing that kept Edward from losing his composure was the fact that everyone- precisely Bella and Renesme. –was there.

"We're not alone, Edward." Carlisle reminded him calmly, giving him a stern look. "Lower your voice if you don't want the rest of the family to find out like this, especially Bella. And-" he sighed. His face softened, became more apologetic. "-And I know that you don't want _him_ to find out like this either, but you must understand that we need as many witnesses as we can get."

"It's not that," he said. He averted his eyes, but his glare was still fixed on his angular face. "I mean, he must'veheard _something_ about me and Bella by now."

"But surely not Renesme."

"Of course not."

"Edward," said Carlisle. "You're my son. You know that I would do whatever it takes to protect you, but this time my love for Renesme is clashing with the love I have for you." Carlisle regarded him silently for a moment, before picking up his car keys and striding to where his wife stood waiting for him. "I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to deal with him."

Carlisle wanted to leave it there and discuss it no further, but his mind-reading son wasn't going to let him go that easily. He was young, after all, and hasn't fully come to terms with fatherhood.

"And what, pray tell, made you think for a moment that he'd let you find him in the first place?!" He called, just as Carlisle reached Esme. "I've been trying to find him for eighty years, Carlisle. Not _once _did he even let me detect a faint trace of his scent."

Esme noted the tightening of the muscles of Carlisle's jaws. She knew where this was going, and she knew that Carlisle was going to regret it later and forget entirely about his purpose. She tugged at his hand but he didn't respond. Instead, he gently freed his fingers from hers and turned back to Edward.

"He will allow me to find him, simply because I'll be there _without _you. And for the last time Edward, I will remind you." His voice was perfectly controlled, his expression serene and not betraying him once. "You are now a father and a husband. Most importantly, you have a duty towards your daughter, towards her _safety. _If you decided to hide most of your past from Bella and the rest of the family, then so be it. It's not my business to interfere, and despite my better judgment I helped you. But when it comes to Renesme's welfare you will be a father and give up everything you have for her."

Carlisle himself hated resorting to that sort of treatment, Esme knew, but she also felt that at a time like this it was probably necessary. The more time they waste in argument the more at risk Renesme's life becomes.

At hearing that, Edward felt a pang of guilt. He tried not to be so selfish for her. He loves her, truly, even though he's still confused by her role in his life. Still, he could not allow Carlisle to sway him. He just _couldn't._ "Carlisle, you don'tunderstand-!"

"Do you love Renesme, Edward?" He cut him off, using that calm tone of a doctor.

He sighed, defeated. "Of course I do. More than anything."

"Then you'll just have to deal with Alistair."

* * *

The days that followed felt like years, long and slow and similar to those wasted by famine. With every ticking second his anxiety increased. For once, he was more than relieved to have Jasper away, and at the same time he craved for a soothing wave coming from his southern brother. He wanted an update from Alice, or a call from Carlisle that had nothing to do with apologies over the harsh words exchanged.

Sometimes he feels that Esme's his only true comfort. She often talks to him, tells him over and over again that everything will work out the way he wants it to. Though he knows that her main concern and the reason behind those calls were Renesme's wellbeing, he's still thankful for the gesture.

Bella seemed unconcerned. She didn't notice him rising to his feet with unnecessary speed every time the wind slams the door Jacob left ajar shut. The mutt in question did notice, and often spared him seconds of questioning looks before his imprint pulled him back to her world.

Bella was too focused on her daughter and the looming threat approaching. He couldn't blame her, and his inner voice scolded him for not having the same kind of fear. He wasn't even sure if she was more worried about the Volturi or the witnesses, but being Bella she was probably more concerned over what the older vampires might think of her. She was silly like that, worrying about silly things and being anything but aware of the actual danger.

Sometimes she'd notice. She'd be talking for a long time, and then she would realize that he's been staring at empty space the minuet she started. Instead of scolding him for ignoring her like the first couple of times, she'd run her fingers over his cheeks and kiss his furrowed brow. He doesn't know why she wouldn't just ask- she probably assumed that he's as worried as she was. –but the gesture is gentle, and it makes him smile.

He feels hatred for himself afterwards. Sometimes, he wish he'd told her everything from the start, from before they got married. Maybe then he wouldn't have felt as bad about his possible execution.

Eventually; Rosalie and Emmet returned with their flock of witnesses. He did his part as perfectly as he'd hoped, and Bella couldn't have done hers any better. Things went great after that, albeit roughly at first. The older ones were expectantly horrified, and the younger awed and completely vulnerable against Renesme's charm. After that the gap between the generations for most didn't matter, because suddenly Renesme turned into a miracle in their eyes.

The Irish, Denali's and Amazonians adored her. Amun point blank refused to be associated with her, and Kebi just settled with staring longingly from afar. The Romanians were surprisingly fascinated, and Bella was wary of that notion.

He wondered, as he went through their thoughts on his daughter, what she'll look like in Alistair's eyes. Would she be more of a miracle or a mistake?

He tired to ignore the fact that Carlisle and Esme were two weeks late.

* * *

He was shocked that, among all the old and sharp-minded immortals surrounding them, Emmet was the first and only that noticed his agitation.

_You ok, man? _He had asked first from afar, frowning at him.

He managed a smile and nodded, hoping that his larger brother would just take it and leave it there. Days later Emmet had him cornered in one of their hunting trips.

"So what's up?" he asked, shoving his bloodstained hands into his pockets and looking as casually as he can be when his white shirt was practically soaked in deer's blood.

Edward raised a brow, feigning confusion. "Emmet did you know that the Volturi are paying us a visit with their guards?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yea, sarcasm. You're charming like that."

"Is that why you invited me to this hunting trip?"

"Yes. And Ed," he smirked at Edward's obvious dislike of that nickname, "I don't have to be a mind reader or Carlisle to know that something else is bothering you. I'm not going to make you tell me, because I know that that sucks because Rose does that _all the time_-" Edward smiled as he recalled the fits she threw at all the silly and mostly childish things Emmet did. "-but if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. But if Rosalie and I are having sex then don't you even _think _aboutfinding me, because sexy time is _my _time."

He chuckled at the last, and Emmet was satisfied.

"Seriously man, don't do that. Even if you suddenly realized that you're gay and you want to 'come out of the closet'."

He almost chocked on the blood he was draining. He did a quick scan of Emmet's thoughts, and was relieved to know that he wasn't implying anything. He had really meant that as a joke.

Emmet didn't notice Edward's cautious eyes flicker towards him every now and then as they fed.

Emmet just didn't know how much Edward wanted to talk to him, to sit down and pour out his heart's content. Despite what he says and does, Edward knows that Emmet will probably understand more than Bella or Carlisle, and support him even if he didn't necessarily agree with his decisions. What he couldn't comprehend was _why _he was so unable to talk to anyone about Alistair, including Carlisle and Esme who already knew.

* * *

The long wait finally came to an end.

By the time Carlisle and Esme returned, everyone was already there waiting for them in the living room. Once again Bella took Renesme and hid behind Jacob when she heard the car pulling up in the driveway. Edward tried not to tense, and prided himself for not squirming in his seat or rushing to the door and yanking it off of its hinges. Though he knew that if he had a heart it would've been beating so fast vampires from the other end of the world would've danced to its rhythm.

Alistair walked in before Carlisle and Esme. For once in his life, he was properly dressed for the century. Carlisle must've somehow convinced him to change into a more modern black, but it still didn't change the fact that their guests weren't particularly keen on pretending to be happy to see him. They glared, growled and hissed, and some even sneered. He didn't bother with them. He held his head high like a proud English aristocrat, but Edward knew that inwardly he was just _dying _to cower under the closest rock.

There was a lot of talking from Carlisle's side. Edward didn't hear much of it, or hell, _any _of it. Like a hopeless schoolboy he studied the planes of Alistair's youthful face, still as sharp and beautiful as he remembered. Imperfections like lines appeared and creased his stony skin as everything Carlisle said was starting to sink in.

_Imperfections? _The word echoed in his head. His mind was already rebelling against the idea. No such thing exists; the man was simply perfect in Edward's eyes. At the sight of Alistair, so close and so real after eighty years of groveling to a turned back, his mind desired to rebel against everything else; his family, his wife and his child, but Edward simply would not permit it. At least he tried to, anyway.

Bella's hand on his arm shook him out of his revere. She stepped around Jacob, who was still adamant on shielding Renesme from the dark vampire before him, and slid her hand downwards until her fingers intertwined with his.

He didn't know why he hesitated to return the gesture. He just hoped that Alistair distracted her enough from noticing.

"You're all insane!" He hissed; his thick English accent untainted by different cultures like Carlisle's that was almost completely gone by the time Edward was old enough to appreciate it. "The Volturi will never overlook this, or even consider that sorry reason of yours for making this immortal child valid."

"Please, Alistair," Carlisle tried. "What I told you is the truth. I know that it sounds absurd, but surely all these vampires wouldn't have agreed to stand for an immortal child against the Volturi? Like you, they don't want to be on the Volturi's darker side, and neither do we. I've seen it with my own eyes, and for centuries I've lived with it and in silence I've endured what no man with a conscious should." He paused. Alistair's expression was unchanging. "I would've never dragged you into this if it was, as you've stated earlier, a 'group suicide mission'-" Edward frowned. How on earth did he miss _that?_ "-Please believe me when I say that she is exactly what I told you she is: A vampire-human hybrid. She can prove it, _show _it and perhaps even explain it better than I can."

Alistair snorted. "And you think that just because Aro took a particular liking to you and your coven, he's going to stop his army of hungry executioners and listen to your rather poor explanation? And let's assume that he did just to amuse himself. Do you think that he'd even _try _or _pretend _to believe you?"

"That's why you're here."

"Yes...to join this group suicide mission."

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Alistair, you're making quick, unnecessary judgments. We just want you to witness the child's growth and development and then display it to Aro. If he decides to proceed with his plans you may leave. He will not pursue you nor will he accuse you of anything worthy of a death sentence."

Still, he was not convinced. He turned, pausing just as he was about to sweep out of the room. "I'm sorry my friend, but I have no intention of dying anytime soon."

"Then why did you bother coming all the way here?" Edward heard himself snarling. He noticed that, until this very moment, Alistair didn't even look at him. Perhaps that was why he got so angry, and spoke without thinking his words through.

It was too unlike him. All eyes, red and gold, were suddenly on him. Scorn and hate were replaced with confusion and suspicion.

The English vampire's eyes were different. They shone suddenly with fury that couldn't possibly be compared with Edward's. The redness of the irises was becoming slightly darker, an exact replica of the color of blood. He stared him down, despite the distance and the fact that Edward was almost the same height as he, and spoke in thought only.

_You know damn well why._

Thoughts unfolded then, ones he was all too eager but hesitant to explore. They were of faceless vampires speaking of Edward and his 'new mate', or the new potential member of the Cullen clan. There was the mild kind of shock one gets after remembering something they've locked up in a closet and forgotten decades ago, but there were no regretful or stormy thoughts after that, much to Edward's surprise and disappointment. Nothing within him stirred for a long while concerning the news, other than conjured-up images of what this 'new Cullen' looked like. Life was back to the way it should've been to him, even when he got the invitation to a wedding. Alistair had mused over it for a few moments, stroked its velvety surface and allowed the rain to soak it. He did not permit Edward to dive any further. He skipped to Carlisle and Esme, dressed as they were just before leaving, giving him snippets of information on a different kind of child in need of his help, a child that was biologically Edward's.

Slowly, Edward's expression became impassive. Bella eyes were worried. He pulled back from Alistair's mind, squeezed his wife's hand in reassurance, and nodded towards Renesme. To his surprise, Bella didn't waver or approach Alistair herself. She merely threw him a skeptic glance, bended her knees a little and released Renesme, who was still looking up at the newest arrival with innocent curiosity.

She found him strangely appealing, this tall and dark foreign vampire, perhaps even more so than the rest. Edward refused to acknowledge the warmth that spread in his chest as he heard Renesme declaring inwardly that she wanted to impress this silly, brooding Englishman with her gift. She wanted to erase that disapproving frown the same way she did with the others that accused her of being a monster in the form of a child. Her thoughts were blooming with confidence as she made her way towards him. Bella kept an outstretched hand on impulse, and Edward did the same, but was more intent on restraining his wife from snatching Renesme.

Cautiously, as if Alistair's gift permitted him to sense Edward breaching the walls of his mind, Edward listened. He was relieved- overjoyed? –to know that, despite what his expression told the viewers, Alistair thought that Renesme was the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, so beautiful and so much like Edward that it made him want to weep. She was confidant, too, and as graceful and enticing as a dancer. All admirable traits, he noted.

For a moment, Edward believed that Alistair would relinquish. He believed that Alistair would drop on his knees and embrace the girl, and so he let his guard down.

He didn't know that, despite the fact that eighty years isn't a very long time for immortals, things could still be forgotten during any lengthy period of time.

In less than a minuet, chaos ensued.

He didn't know how he got there, but he was suddenly standing where Alistair once stood, and Alistair was being supported by Carlisle as if he's been thrown off balance. He was baring his teeth at Edward, his eyes angry and black. It took Edward a moment to realize that he, too, was angry, so angry that he was hissing and struggling and being held back by both Emmet and Garret.

All of a sudden it didn't matter to him that most of the known covens saw him giving in to his anger, or that he wasn't exactly sure how he got so fast that his body acted on its own accord before his brain could properly process the situation. However, he was aware of the witnesses' reaction. They too were in an uproar. Some were already trying to pounce on Alistair's throat. It still didn't matter to him, nothing made sense to Edward at that very second other than Renesme, sweet little Renesme terrified and nestled deeply in her mother's bosom, her soft whimpers almost drowned by Jacob's growls. Edward could barely see the top of Bella's head from behind Jacob's shoulder, but he knew that Alistair's rather hostile reaction confused her more than it terrified her.

He knew that as soon as he felt Renesme's fear his paternal instincts kicked in, and he found himself too shocked with their existence to fight back.

He didn't want to anyway. Alistair may have once been the greatest part of his life, but it doesn't change the fact that he is now of the past and Renesme the present. She comes first.

Emmet was still holding his arms behind his back. Roughly, Edward tugged them free. The gesture was violent; his arms were almost ripped off by the sheer force. Alistair removed himself from Carlisle, his gaze still locked with Edward's, who was as furious but for different reasons.

Their eyes, both black and hostile, remained locked until Carlisle managed to restore the peace.

"As long as you wish to remain alive under this roof," said Edward, surprised at the intensity of his own voice, "you will not harm Renesme. I swear on everything and everyone I love and in front of all our witnesses that I will kill you if you merely think about it."

If Alistair was hurt in any way, he was very good at hiding it. Edward was unable to detect anything besides rage plastered on his face and echoing loudly in his mind like church bells.

"I told her not to approach me!" His black eyes snapped towards Jacob's, most likely seeking Renesme, and the wolf on guard moved a step closer on instinct. Emmet's arm stretched before him and blocked his path. "This is her entire fault! Why did she continue to approach me when I clearly told her _over and over _again to keep her distance? If she is as intelligent as you claim then she would have understood me and...and...!" He was frustrated, looking at his hands as if they assaulted him. His head snapped back up at Edward, eyes still gleaming with rage. "Why did you not stop her?!"

"Back off, Emmet, the leech is asking for it!" Jacob pushed Emmet's arm away, only to find it replaced by his entire body.

"Relax pup, nothing happened," he said.

"_Nothing?!_" he snorted in a way that didn't suggest humor. "She barely touched his hand and he just _flipped! _Emmet, he almost tore her face off."

"Stay back, Jacob." Edward's voice was too cold and commanding. He kept his eyes fixed on Alistair. "I've got this."

For a moment, Alistair looked taken aback. Edward wasn't sure, because when he blinked he saw that Alistair was still glaring at him, his fists shaking by his sides and his teeth clenched to such an extend that the surface might crack anytime soon.

"Prove it," he hissed, almost gleaming at the idea of the challenge.

"Enough, both of you." Carlisle intervened, calmly but with authority. He stepped forward and placed a gentle yet cautious hand on Alistair's shoulder, steadying him. The nomad didn't react. "Forgive her, Alistair. Despite her intelligence, she is still a child. Her intentions were as pure as any regular child's could be. You must excuse Edward as well, for I'm sure that no father would be the slightest bit in control when he feels that his daughter is being threatened."

Alistair didn't respond. His expression was the same. Edward wasn't about to contradict Carlisle and loose his battle with Alistair, but the word that echoed in the nomad's mind rang loudly in Edward's.

_Father..._

So shocked, so laced with pain, and so unlike his loathing, furious face.

Edward's anger melted. He felt the black inching away from his golden irises, and his knitting brows relaxing. The tension on his shoulders dispersed, and he was once more standing perfectly straight on two.

Alistair wouldn't show him anything yet. He narrowed his eyes at the sudden changes in the younger vampire. _Guilt. Pity. This is what you will offer me now?_

"I am touched," he scoffed. Whether he meant to say it out loud or not, Edward will never know.

"Please focus on the matter at hand, Alistair," Carlisle urged, unaware of his friend's and of his son's conflicting emotions. "Will you stand and witness for Renesme?"

He looked away from Edward and towards no one in particular. "Do I have a choice?"

Carlisle blinked, perplexed, and briefly exchanged glances with Edward. "This is not mandatory. I'm just asking for a favor as an old friend. Nothing more."

"Jesus, you don't have to be here if you really don't want to," muttered Garret, slightly breathless from his struggle with restraining Edward. "One less witness doesn't amount to anything, especially if said witness is unwilling."

"If anything," added Stephan, grinning madly despite the fight that almost ensued, "I think its best that you leave. Your negativity will only encourage the Volturi to be as cruel and ruthless as they can be..." he trailed off, turning to Vladimir with a knowing smile.

"Or maybe you should stay," said Vladimir. "I'm in the mood for war with those Italian freaks. Don't you agree, Steph?"

"Why yes I do, Vlad!"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "They're at it again. Someone stake them already."

Alistair wasn't paying attention to the stares, the muttered insults, or the banter going on between the Romanians and the giant wolf-boy. His head was bowed, his expression empty. "Fools," he breathed, clenching his fists as soon as the word left his mouth. "Of course I don't have a choice!"

Before Carlisle could say anything, he turned on his heels and took the stairs, passing by the stiff and sneering cluster of foreign vampires unflinching on his way. Movements were slow up until he moved into the attic. Creatures of marble were then surrounding Renesme, Bella and Jacob; their voices rising and thickening with concern and relief. Everyone started moving on when Kate managed to coax a giggle out of Renesme, completely forgetting about Alistair.

Everyone but Edward.

Emmet clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Ed. Renesme's ok. Look, she's laughing at Garret."

He nodded dully, his gaze not moving anywhere near his daughter or away from the staircase.

* * *

Edward didn't know how long it's been since he saw Alistair. Esme was right after all, the pain was almost tolerable when he refrains from counting the days. Rather, _hours and minuets and seconds _in his case. And it didn't help the fact that he could hear every thought that ever crosses Alistair's mind, a constant reminder of his presence just two stories above.

He busied himself with Renesme and Bella, his only form of salvation. He knows that he loves his wife and his daughter so much that he's selfish enough to risk the lives of many innocent vampires just to hope that theirs could be saved. He is not deluded, was never in doubt about his future with Bella. She was bond to be his the moment he laid his eyes on her. It didn't matter that she probably had other obligations, other plans for her future; he would do whatever it takes to love her and have her love him back.

Yes...he was a selfish man indeed. He was taught from birth that he, the future Lord Masen, could and should have whatever he wants. The only thing he didn't get was the human Bella, the one he originally fell in love with, but with that loss his happiness was complete with both Renesme and Bella and promises of forever.

There will be a battle. Chances are too high; he knows that Carlisle is trying to hide it in order to reserve the peace. He also knows that the Volturi are ruthless, that Aro's smiles are never as friendly as they look, that Marcus could be easily swayed and that Caius is not a man of words.

Often he finds himself staring for hours at the staircase, wondering why he couldn't march up there and just talk to Alistair. For eighty years he dreamed of this opportunity, and now that it's merely seconds away with vampire speed, he finds himself shirking further and further away with silly excuses like washing the dishes.

Esme was getting worried. She continued to urge, and often she begged him to get it over with. He was becoming too pale for her liking, too depressed and withdrawn when he should be spending as much time smiling as he possibly could.

But how was he going to start? There were too many vampires with sharp senses, and if he were going to tell Bella it'd be him and her _alone_, and she'd hear it from him and no one else.

He just smiled at her, knowing very well that it was weak, and gave her a quick hug before walking away. Perhaps, he thought, some loose ends were never meant to be tied.

For once fate lends him a hand, and Bella tells him that she has some errands to run in Forks. He's instantly suspicious, because even though he can't really read her mind, he can tell when Bella was being honest and when she wasn't. She avoids his eyes and bites her lip, and tells him that she'll be taking Renesme and Jacob to Charlie's.

He trusts Bella. He knows that she wouldn't hide anything from him unless she really had to, and the part of him that's devoted to only her and Renesme wanted to pry the answers out of her, but Alistair presence in their attic kept his lips locked.

Most vampires were either out hunting or practicing in their backyard. He may never get a chance like this again.

"I might be a little late, so don't worry," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist to prevent him from looking at her face.

He smiled and kissed her forehead, deciding that he'll pounder on it later. "Be careful."

* * *

The one thing Edward hates about himself- besides being soulless. –is how he always winds up finding a way to hurt those he loves most, and if he doesn't hurt them, _he _himself ends up badly hurt. He tries so hard to avoid that, to deprive himself and sacrifice his own happiness just to keep them safe, and yet somehow all his attempts backfire. What was bad becomes worse. He thought that if he drank the blood of murderers and rapists he'd be less of a monster but instead his thirst grew, and Carlisle became burdened. He thought he was doing Bella a favor by leaving, but instead he left her almost defenseless against Victoria _and _he exposed her to the Volturi. And now Alistair...

He closed his eyes to prevent imaginary tears from falling, and leaned against the door standing between them. He placed his palm on the surface, as if to coax cold marble out of wood, and somehow managed to keep his mind from wandering into a time when inky black fell over coppery red.

The crowed gathered were too big, _too much _for Alistair to tolerate. It was the cursed side of his gift, he couldn't help it. He was already too tired, too strained to have coordinated thoughts, and his anxiety and lack of blood in his system wore him down to the point where he can barely stand still for more than an hour without pacing.

It hurt more, knowing that Alistair was doing all this for _him. _He will never admit it, not even to himself, but Edward knows that he's only taking so much-

_Edward? _

He immediately leaned away from the door, taking so many backward steps that he almost fell down the stairs. What made him halt was not his name whispered cautiously and with uncertainty in the older vampire's mind. It was the thoughts previous to it that were too jumbled to make sense, but once he unconsciously rearranged them they were found to have been contradicting every single theory Edward's been coming up with.

If he's known Alistair at all, he should've seen it coming from the start. But such a decision still shocks him, wounds him deeply, especially if it came from Alistair.

His mind cried for him to stop. Alistair would _never_ do this to him.

_Why shouldn't he? You've pushed him over the edge. You do not deserve his sympathy. _

He pushed his thoughts aside and barged in, his face stony and his speech perfectly rehearsed.

To his surprise, Alistair wasn't pacing, nor did he look at him even when he slammed the door shut. He was standing close to an open window, staring intently at a page of Esme's old drawing pad. His hair was in a disheveled state, occasionally getting lifted off of his shoulders by the winds coming from outside. The sleeves of his black dress-shirt were pushed to his elbows, and the first three buttons were undone.

Edward's fingers closed into his palms. Out of nowhere, he remembered that Alistair had a scar in his abdominal area.

"Sneaking behind the missus, I see." His careless tone surprised Edward, given that it did not merge with his racing thoughts. "So I was right. She does not know." He looked up at him. His irises were a very dull shade of red, but for some reason Edward could only compare them to lava.

_Such a foolish little girl. _His thoughts rung clear, very much intended to be heard. _Readily throwing away her humanity for the sake of some boy with a pretty face. _"So rarely do we find honor in this century. Don't you agree?"

Edward narrowed his eyes, his primal instincts demanding him to defend his mate. "I didn't know you fancied hypocrisy."

His grip tightened on the pad. "Hypocrisy I could tolerate. As for deception, I'm afraid I cannot."

The redhead took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've gone through that too many times before, and I've been trying to go through it again for the past seventy years. I've wasted enough time, so if you're not going to listen then please let's just-"

"I'd like to buy this piece."

"What?" Edward's eyes snapped open. Alistair was holding up the picture he was admiring, that of a mother falcon protecting her newly hatchlings from a vulture. It's true that Esme's talents were considered average, but the image she tried to create was beautiful nonetheless. Edward appreciates it, and so does Carlisle, but she was too embarrassed to look at it or any other drawing Alistair held, so she kept it hidden in the attic.

He felt the corners of his lips twitching. Falcons. _Of course. _He had forgotten; Alistair often becomes predictable.

"How much would you sell it for me?" he repeated his question, his face serious with no hint of the previous anger.

Edward rolled his eyes. As if he had to ask! "Just take it. You'd be doing Esme a huge favor; she's been planning on throwing it away."

He paused, his expression not changing. "Thank you." He carefully tore out the page and left the drawing pad on top of the stocked boxes. "I truly hope that the Volturi spare her, so I could perhaps present her with a gift of my own."

The tension returned just as quickly as it dispersed.

"Oh, don't give me that look!" he snapped, glaring with open hostility at the younger newlywed. "Edward, if you're under the notion that I care in the slightest about you or your mate, then please rid yourself of it. You insult me by simply assuming that I'd indulge myself with such things."

"You weren't going to tell Bella. I already knew that."

He gave a very un-aristocratic snort. "Of course you would. Really, it's foolish of me to have forgotten. Perhaps I shouldn't even strain my tongue, and resort to communication through thoughts only."

"Please don't." Without thinking he moved towards him, only to be stopped mid-stride by an even sharper look. "Speak to me. It's been so long since I've heard your voice."

There, he said it. He sounds just like he did all those years ago, like a little boy that loves too much for his own good. It's like he never even grew as a person.

And the thing is; he doesn't care.

To his misfortune, his guest doesn't appreciate nor does he return the sentiment.

"Spare me your ill-revised poetry." He silenced his protest with a hand. The gesture was still very elegant, albeit slightly outdated. "I was never interested in that stuff, anyway. Now tell me why you're here."

"I just want to talk."

"Then what are you stalling for? Talk."

He froze. Two years ago, before he met Bella, he had millions of things to say. He had prayed to all the gods he could think of for a chance to say all these things, but now that his prayers have finally been answered, he feels that he's too late. It'd be too awkward if he expresses these thoughts now.

He hung his head. "I can't."

"Unbelievable," Alistair sighed with clear evidence of frustration and impatience. "You honestly have nothing to say to me? _Nothing?" _

"I'm sorry," he said softly, still avoiding the foreign vampire's eyes. "I've missed you, Alistair. I thought that I'd forget if I listened to Alice, if I had tried to find something similar with Bella, and for a long while I thought I did. But then you came back and..." he sighed, and slowly he looked up at the nomad. "I'm scared. I'm likely to lose everything very soon, and it _scares _me. I have no right to ask this of you, but _please _stay. I don't want you to leave."

He had been around Bella for too long, he had forgotten that a gulf separates her character and Alistair's. While Bella would've been clay in his hands by now, Alistair remained hard and inaccessible.

"So selfish," he hissed. "It's not enough that you've deceived me, that you've _ruined _me, now you want to take me with you to the grave!"

"No, Alistair-" he pleaded.

"Shall I burn myself now and give you my remains, so that you could play with them as you please before the big 'confrontation' with the Volturi?!"

"I need you, Alistair!" He was suddenly too close to him, merely a foot of space between them. He was too desperate to consider the other vampire's demands. "Did you hear me at all? I'm afraid of what's coming. I'm afraid for the life of my loved ones as well as my own, and I want- no, I _need _you by my side. I've always needed you, and right now-" he stopped and ran both hands through his hair, messing it up even more, as if that simple gesture could somehow rearrange the words in his minds into proper sentences.

"Alistair," he tried again, his voice wavering. "I'm ready to get down on my knees and beg. Please, do not leave yet. I can't do this without you."

He didn't know what stung most- or first. –Alistair's palm physically slapping his cheek with all the might of a very angry, very old vampire, or the metaphorical slap to his confessions. Time seemed to slow, and revert back to the seconds it took for Alistair's expression to change into the most unspeakable, hellish form of rage to the milliseconds that followed his first physical assault.

He felt nails digging into his jaws, forcing him to look back at his former lover. He grimaced, not from the pain, but from the endless black pools that resembled eyes.

"Look at me!" he dug his fingers deeper, cracking the smooth surface a little. "Do you even know what you've done to me?! Before you I had nothing but my misery and a shred of sanity, and when you came along I was reduced to a state I still cannot identify." His face was too close. He was breathing hard; he was labored by his own anger. All Edward wanted to do then was stroke his cheek, to reassure him somehow, but all he could do was stare apologetically back.

Finally, he released his jaw, leaving an angry trail of red behind. He stepped back, and with each step he shed more of his anger. "You said that I could trust you," he said lowly, now his voice conveying sadness. He turned away. _And I foolishly have..._

Edward waited. He gave the other vampire his space, his moment of silence, for he too grieved the loss of the dark, amusing English vampire he loved so much.

He was still, but his thoughts betrayed him. _Forgive me. I should not have done that. _

Edward touched the place Alistair's fingers punctured. It was already mostly healed.

He smiled. "I deserved that. And you've wanted to do it for a very long time, so why apologize?"

"Because it's unlike me," he said. "I'm rarely angered, if ever. To _feel_ it is barbaric, let alone acting on it. I was not raised to succumb to such destructive emotions, and until recently I never have."

Edward swallowed down the guilt building up in his chest and rising to his throat, clogging his air passages. He forced another smile and shrugged, acting casual by shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "Don't apologize. I deserved it."

He stared quietly at his back for a long time. "May I ask you something?"

Alistair turned around, his movements slow and cautious.

Edward laughed. "An actual question, Alistair, not a request."

His caution lingered. "You may."

His smile was sad all of a sudden. "Would things have been different if I have told you about my gift from the very beginning?" _If I haven't lied for so long? _

Alistair scoffed. "My answer is irrelevant, because you haven't done that."

They remained in silence for a long time. Gradually, Alistair's thoughts were becoming more organized. It didn't please Edward now that they were starting to make sense, because now he's certain that the nomad was not persuaded.

"I must hunt," he declared, climbing on the window frame and pushing the rarely-touched, slightly opened window even wider. "You have this unbreakable treaty with the wolves, yes? Then it appears that I must travel a long distance."

Edward nodded numbly. "I really wish you wouldn't drink human blood."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't care for yours or Carlisle's philosophies, or the Volturi's belief of it being our one and only source. I like it better, therefore I will have it."

"So stubborn!" And now he knows why he got so attached to Bella in such a short period of time.

Alistair was halfway out the window, on the verge of making a leap when Edward stopped him again. He looked at him from behind his shoulders with that same melancholic, empty look, and Edward knew the answer to his question. He asked anyway, with regards to the bit of hope that the elder vampire would prove him wrong, even when his thoughts told him not to try.

"Please be honest with me. Will this be the last time I see you?"

Alistair shrugged. "The Seer knows better. Ask her." _You know damn well that if you stay out of reach I wont bother trying. _

And then he made that leap.

* * *

It took everyone an entire day to notice his absence.

"He left?!" Bella's fear took him by surprise. Just yesterday she looked like a woman with a plan. "But...why?! No one was bothering him."

"It doesn't matter even if they did, darling." He tried to explain without looking _too _upset with the news. "He doesn't really care about that. He doesn't trust the Volturi. He fears them too much. He felt their numbers, and he couldn't bear it."

She sighed, lowering herself gracefully on the couch. Not falling, or tripping clumsily into the cushions. "That's one less witness..."

He lowered herself next to her and placed an arm over her shoulders, pulling her towards him. "It's ok. We'll find a way to do it without him."

* * *

**Oh yes, I'll most definitely add two more chapters XD I don't know, I don't feel like it explained much...thoughts, anyone? **


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